


Too Much (BRENDON URIE)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Panic! at the Disco, brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: Brendon Urie - Freeform, Other, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, reader - Freeform, trigger warning, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Cursing, domestic disputes, mentions of suicide, slight emotional abuse, arguing, yelling, capslock.</p><p>PLEASE BE CAREFUL READING THIS AS IT CONTAINS HIGHLY SENSITIVE MATERIAL TO SOME. I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE NOTES NOR REBLOGS I JUST WANT MY READERS TO BE SAFE.</p><p>Also disclaimer: this is a work of fiction so in no way am I saying Brendon Urie acts like this. This is fanfic, folks.</p><p>Word count: 1422</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>Even though it’s hella sad and hella stressful I really like this one. Also I wrote it in half an hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much (BRENDON URIE)

Fighting, _fighting_ , **_fighting_**.

That’s all you ever did with Brendon anymore.

You didn’t sleep in the same bed, you didn’t eat breakfast together, and you didn’t kiss each other goodbye before you left for work and he left for the studio.

If fact, you didn’t actually speak to each other until your nightly fight started. As soon as you walked in the door, exhausted and cranky after a ten hour shift, Brendon started up. It would start with a snide comment tossed over his shoulder about the dogs- the dogs off all things!- and then it would escalate.

“Brendon, not tonight, _please_.” You sighed when he complained about you not filling up the food bowls before you left, “I had some nasty customers today and I don’t need it from my boyfriend, too.” His nostrils flared.

“Oh, boo hoo. Poor you, working in _retail_ , dealing with customers all day. Grow up,” He spat, anger burning through his voice, “Sorry I don’t want to come home to dead fucking dogs because you starved them!” You scoffed and threw your arms up, readying yourself for the most intense fight to date.

“You leave after I do, you utter ass!” He clenched his jaw, “You can feed the dogs too!” Your voice broke, shrill and angry, “I am so fucking sick of you, Brendon, get your head out of your ass! Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you can walk all over me!”

“I walk all over you?” He bellowed, slapping himself in the chest, “Are you kidding me? You walk in that damn door every night, ready to rip my fucking head off for something I didn’t do!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and laughing a laugh with a bitter tint to it.

“The first thing you did tonight was curse at me for doing something you could have done!”

“The first thing you told me to do was to shut the fuck up!”

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” You slammed your fist down on the counter, rattling everything on it, surprising Brendon. He had never seen you take physical action during an encounter and for a moment, a brief moment, you say fear flash through his eyes. “Stop being a dick and twisting my words, I’m tired of it! In fact,” You spat, losing control of yourself, of your anger, “I’m fucking tired of you, Brendon. I’m tired of fighting.” He crossed his arms, muscles bulging in the black v-neck he wore.

“And what does that mean?” Your anger disappeared quickly, tears finding their way behind your eyelids. Without another word you turned and headed for the room you slept in alone, locking the door behind you. Brendon didn’t pursue you, but you heard him scream: “ _FUCK_!” And then flip something over, so you assumed he understood what you implied.’

On shaky legs you found your way to the bed, sinking into it and laying your head in your hands, elbows on your knees. Thought whirled in your head, arguments and shouting mingled with the before; when it was good, when it was kissing and hugging and love and nicknames and going on dates and pictures on Instagram that weren’t fake and when it was love. It wasn’t love anymore, it was toxic, crushing and you just… You didn’t know.

You loved Brendon but you couldn’t do it. You wanted to be able to, to be able to get past the fighting and work it out, but you didn’t know if you could. You were too lost, too confused, to scared of the future to be able to decide anything. You had lost your cool that night, slamming your fist down and if you lost your cool- what if Brendon did? What if he lost his cool, took his hands to you, left you with reminders of his anger painted on your skin?

A year or so prior to that night, you would have rejected the idea. Called it bullshit. Brendon loved you, right? He would never, ever hurt you, right? But he did hurt you. Every night, when you arrived home from your job and had to fight with him until you couldn’t take it and fled to your room.

He had hurt you, just not physically.

You could hear him outside, in the rest of the house, stomping around and cursing under his breath. You could remember when he did that to protect you, from someone at the bar, or from the hate online. You could remember when Brendon loved you, truly _loved_ you.

“Let me in,” Brendon grumbled after he rapped on the door with his knuckles, “We need to talk.”

“Fuck off,” You growled, wiping the tears away from your face, “I’m not letting you in so you can tell me what a fucking waste of space I am, Brendon.” He growled and pounded his fist against the door, but you heard him pause and take a deep breath.

“We need to talk about what you said.”

“Oh, yeah,” Your voice shook with tears, “Yeah, of course, we need to talk about what I said. What about what you’ve said? What about all the shit you’ve said to me over the past year, Brendon? Are we going to fucking talk about that?!”

“Jesus Christ, will you _shut the fuck up_ and let me in?” You slammed the door open, standing your ground against a red-faced Brendon Urie. He pushed by you and walked to the middle of the room, torso pushed out to show his dominance in a very alpha-male way. Silently, in your head, you cursed him.

“What do you want?” You wiped away more tears and tried to lock your jaw in a way that would seem like you weren’t just sobbing your eyes out. “Just get it over with and get out, I’m tired.”

“Tired of what, tired of me?” He whirled around, jerking his chin out. You could see tears shining in his eyes but you didn’t let it get to you. In your head he was crying because you had bruised his ego, insulted him, demasculated him.

“Yeah, in fact, I am super fucking tired of you. All you do is-” Brendon rushed toward you, grasping your chin and pushing his lips to yours. Anger filled you, more fiery than when you first walked through the door, and you shoved Brendon on the chest so hard he stumbled back into the dresser, “DON’T YOU DARE,” You bellowed, wagging a shaking finger in Brendon’s direction, “Don’t you _fucking_ dare pull that _bullshit_! Trying to silence me with a kiss! That’s not fuckign romantic! It’s sickening to say you don’t give a fuck about what I have to say and you want to brush it under the table and make out or something like that.” He stood speechless, but you continued, “I don’t know if you understand that I still love you and I don’t want to end what we had, but it’s not what we have. What we have is _toxic_ , Brendon. It’s fucking _eating me from the inside out!_ It’s killing me to argue with you every night but I don’t have a God damn choice!” He tossed his arms up.

“All you do is blame me! This damn relationship wouldn’t be toxic if you would shut the fuck up and do what I asked you to do!”

“Oh, my fucking God you didn’t just say that to me.” You deadpanned, “I’m not your slave, Urie, and when I agreed to go out with you I didn’t know I was signing up to live with someone who thinks I’m just supposed to do everything you want me to do! I am my own person!” He opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand, “I spent my time in relationships that made me hate myself, Brendon, I’m drawing the fucking line here. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t live like this. And if there were any other way, any way we could fix this fuckfest of shitty ass problems, I would. I swear. But I can’t. We can’t. I’m so confused all the time, and I can’t even enjoy my life anymore. I just want to fucking _die_ everytime I think about how this is going to end. I can’t anymore, I can’t.”

For the first time in nearly a year you watched tears roll down Brendon’s cheeks, regret in his eyes, but not for long.

You turned around, grabbed your keys and left.

And it was done.


End file.
